Maro’s family didn’t normally get much in the way of visitors, so today was a special day, one of the kits having caught sight of the long, low canoe approaching the island.

Sometimes, they said, there would be many who arrived, to offer their trade and services, but today it was only a rather short alligator.

Though he wore a sort of beige robe that went down to his knees, he didn’t seem to be perturbed by my hosts’ nakedness as we greeted him on the shore.

“This is our man of justice,” Maro said. The alligator raised a hand in greeting. “And this is K’haiso, a traveler who has come to us.”

The alligator lowered his hand. “A traveler from far off, it seems. You are not of any of the people of our islands. How did you come to Narya unregistered?”

That I was an alien on this world, I had guessed; that I might be an illegal one, I had not considered. And of course the ‘man of justice’ would be concerned with this. “I didn’t—I came here unknowing, and I didn’t see how I came. Is it wrong for me to be here?”

The gator registered surprise as I started speaking. He grabbed my arm even before I’d done speaking and pulled me away from the others, waving Maro back.

I looked at the costume in its box and tried to hold out against the temptation to wear it again. I didn’t want to wear it—it wanted me to wear it. It compelled me. But I didn’t want to wear it. I had only worn it three times since I’d gotten it, and each time….

The fear was exciting—addictive. I didn’t want it to be. I didn’t want to think about it.

I knew if I thought about it, it would get into my mind again.

And if it got into my mind, I would wear the costume again.

And if I wore the costume, the monster that it was would get hungry again.

And I was already running out of stuff.

But I couldn’t stop looking. The fear was exciting—addictive. It compelled me.

It was a gorgeous alligator suit, the kind that inflates around you and makes you look like a big shiny pool toy when you’re wearing it. Just then, though, I thought it looked kind of sad, stuffed in its box all rumpled like it was. I never did put it away properly… after the last time, when the thing’s hunger had faded and I was in control again, I hadn’t taken any chances: I’d hid it away as quickly as I could.

It was a shame to mistreat something so valuable. I figured I ought to at least fold it up properly.

When I picked it up, though, I knew I was trapped again.

It was the smell of it that grabbed me, that pure smell of vinyl, or whatever it was that it—that he was really made of… it entered my nose, bypassed my brain, and took hold somewhere deep in my gut.

Before I had realized what was happening I had already torn my clothes off—and I mean I literally ripped them from my body. I didn’t know I had that kind of strength in me. The smell was so powerful! He shouldn’t have smelled so clean—I’d left him covered in the remains of what he’d eaten—crumbs and spills of food and drink and worse… the paint, I couldn’t convince him paint wasn’t for drinking, and he’d gone through five cans and it had been so sour in my stomach—and the blood, I’d forgotten… how the cat had struggled… but he was clean now, somehow, and…

…and those memories were fading away again now, now that he was controlling me again. I climbed into him through the opening in his chest. I closed up the airtight seal and pulled up the oversized costume zipper that covered it. And I turned on the built-in pump under his tail that would give him his shape.

He never spoke, but I could feel his satisfaction: I was his dependable slave, even though I was unwilling. I felt his hunger, too. I watched his reflection in my bedroom mirror as the air filled him fat and round—so beautiful, so majestic, were the thoughts in my head; whether they were his or mine I wasn’t sure—and as soon as he was full he stretched out, hopped on his big feet experimentally, and barreled purposefully out the door.

My house, as I mentioned, was already mostly empty. The beast sniffed at the air and, though I didn’t smell anything, he must have gotten wind of something. He bounded into the kitchen, the wobble of his body pushing hard against my skin. The kitchen cupboards were still empty; I hadn’t dared to refill them since last time and I’d been eating out.

He grabbed the trash can.

Please, no, I pleaded.

He opened his jaws wide, forcing mine open as well, much wider than should have been comfortable for me. He poured in the contents of the trash can, and I tasted Styrofoam, greasy fast-food wrappers, and a few day-old French fries.

I felt like I was going to be sick as the monster forced me to chew and swallow. But he wouldn’t get sick, so neither would I, no matter how much I wished it.

The gator moved a big paw down over his belly. I knew what he was thinking: Still empty…

He sniffed around again, but I could tell nothing left in my house interested him. He barged out my door and stepped into the street, and I trembled inwardly at the beast’s thoughts… a very clear picture of the meat we would have today.

It was the smell of it that grabbed me, that pure smell of vinyl, or whatever it was that it—that he was really made of… it entered my nose, bypassed my brain, and went directly for my crotch.

Before I had realized what was happening I had already torn my clothes off—and I mean I literally ripped them from my body. I didn’t know I had that kind of strength in me. The smell was so powerful! He shouldn’t have smelled so clean—I’d left him covered in the remains of what he’d eaten—crumbs and spills of food and drink…

It was a gorgeous alligator suit, the kind that inflates around you and makes you look like a big shiny pool toy when you’re wearing it. Just then, though, I thought it looked kind of sad, stuffed in its box all rumpled like it was. I never did put it away properly… after the last time, when the thing’s hunger had faded and I was in control again, I hadn’t taken any chances: I’d hid it away as quickly as I could.

It was a shame to mistreat something so valuable. I figured I ought to at least fold it up properly.

So I started adding a hand to him. At the moment it’s kind of rough because I didn’t want it just to be hanging there; I figured it should be doing something. (I know, I said that last time.) But I haven’t decided what yet.

It’s another adorable character belonging to someone else. This week I put an arm on him.

No hand yet, I know. It’s not a very good arm, either; it definitely could do with some form (and action! it should be doing something!). But I’m taking pics anyway since most of you haven’t seen anything on this guy yet.

In that light he looks a little too mooby. I’m going to have to do something about that too.

Fortuitous that ‘Atligili’ (the creature’s name) happens to be fermi-fermi-fermi-fermi-pico from ‘alligator’. An alternate title might have been All things devours, but that’s both too directly cheesy and also taken. Anyway I’ve been wanting to write something like this for a while now, though I don’t think it’s quite developing the way I would normally send it. Living costumes, of course, are a thing straight out of Swatcher‘s repertoire that you should enjoy, and the trash can I blame on a random remark of Kamatz‘s that probably intrigued me far more than it should have.

I looked at the costume in its box and tried to resist the temptation to put it on again. I had only worn it three times before, but each time….

I didn’t want to think about it, because I knew it would get me horny again.

And if I got horny again, I’d put on the costume again.

And if I put on the costume again, the beast would get hungry.

And I was already running out of stuff.

But I couldn’t stop looking.

It was a gorgeous alligator suit, the kind that inflates around you, making you look like a big shiny pool toy. When worn. Just then, though, it looked all sad, stuffed in its box all rumpled like that. I never did put it away properly… when the thing’s hunger faded and I was in control again, I hadn’t taken any chances and hid it away as quickly as I could.

I figured I ought to at least fold it up properly.

When I picked it up, though, I knew I was trapped again.

It was the smell of it! The pure smell of vinyl, or whatever it was that it—that he was really made of entered my nose, bypassed my brain, and went directly for my crotch.

Before I realized what was happening I had already torn my clothes off—I mean literally ripped them off my body. I didn’t know I was that strong.

The smell was so powerful! He shouldn’t have smelled so clean—I had left him covered in the remains of what he’d eaten—crumbs and spills of food and drink… paint… I couldn’t convince him paint wasn’t for drinking, and he’d gone through five cans and it was so sour in my stomach—and blood, I’d forgotten… how the cat had struggled… but he was clean now, somehow, and…

I was forgetting again now, now that he was controlling me again. I climbed into him through the opening in his chest. I closed up the airtight seal and pulled up the oversized costume zipper that covered it. And I turned on the built-in pump under his tail that would give him his shape.

He never spoke, but I felt his satisfaction: I was his dependable slave, if unwilling. And I felt his hunger, too. As soon as the air had filled him full and fat and round—so beautiful, so majestic, I thought, as I glimpsed him in my bedroom mirror—he stretched out, hopped on his big feet experimentally, and barreled purposefully out the door.

My house, as I’d mentioned, was already mostly empty. The beast sniffed at the air and, though I didn’t smell anything, he must have gotten a scent from something. He ran into the kitchen. The cupboards were still empty; I hadn’t dared to refill them and had been eating out.

He grabbed the trash can.

Please, no, I pleaded.

He opened his jaws wide, forcing mine open as well. He poured in the contents of the trash can, and I tasted styrofoam, greasy fast food wrappers, and a few day-old French fries.

I felt like I was going to be sick as the monster forced me to chew and swallow. But he wouldn’t get sick, so neither would I, no matter how much I wished it.

The gator moved a big paw down over his belly. I knew what it was thinking: Still empty…

He sniffed around again, but I could tell nothing left in my house interested him—today he wanted meat.